Picturing myself in a cloud of snow, tumbling down Slottsbacken due to lack of spikes on my running shoes (and bad body control in general) I bailed on my team today. That's not all. I reached out to drag someone down with me in this moral downfall and succeeded - me and S went to the local gym instead to participate in what she called jump around hop along training... We both agreed we shouldn't settle for anything else than crawling out of there, since we felt we had to pay for the offense we committed against our teammates.
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As always, I checked out the competition (make no mistake, despite the so called relaxed atmosphere at Friskis it's always a competition) and felt like we were in with a chance. That's until we realised these other people had practised the moves and we, sadly, were newbies. I hear you thinking But how hard can it be, eh? Hard, believe me. Not so much the skippy jumpy bits, more the weird exercises the instructor apparently invented after watching G.I. Jane one time too many. Why would you do regular sit ups when you can pedal your legs and wave your arms at the same time? For someone with coordination like a spastic kid at a funfair this particular one proved impossible...
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The instructor also deserves a comment or two. Apart from his apparent flair for Demi Moore and semi-erotic work out positions he had a surprisingly girly scream to tell us when to move to the next exercise. AND his ass was the tightest mankind has seen since the Muscles from Brussels was in his 20's...it sort of hypnotised me and seemed to say You will NEVER be this fit. But what the hell. At least I crawled a little on my way out. Mission completed.
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